20 Ways of Killing Ramsay Bolton
by Black Jellyfish
Summary: One way to kill the bastard son of Roose Bolton for every episode he appears in. A sequel work to 25 Ways of Killing Joffrey Baratheon.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Dark Wings, Dark Words

The abominable bastard of House Bolton, Ramsay Snow, rises to look into the eyes of the restrained Theon Greyjoy. He has just removed the drill from Theon's poor foot; a small kindness that will serve to enhance the future agony that is waiting for the Ironborn prince.

"I'll come for you tonight when the castle sleeps," Ramsay quietly declares, his voice laden with his best imitation of concern.

"Oh no, don't go!" Theon stutters in fear. "Please, please, no, please don't leave me…" Ramsay slips the bag over Theon's face and turns to walk out of the torture cellar, still clutching the drill. He suppresses his urge to smirk as he listens to Theon's continued pleas.

However, Ramsay's eyes are not quite accustomed to the darkness of the room, and he slips on the slick surface of the floor he just cleaned.

With a high-pitched yelp, Ramsay falls right on the floor a split second before pain wracks his nerves. He looks down to see he has stabbed himself through the stomach with the drill.

Ramsay lingers, but not for long. He eventually gives out his last blood-choked gurgle and collapses lifelessly.

 _Author's Notes: Hello! Just watched "Battle of the Bastards" and it was beyond epic! Great choreography, great shots, awesome dialogue! And after seeing the conclusion, I figure that this is as good as any way to celebrate! Please continue to read and laugh!_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Walk of Punishment

The bastard of the wily Roose Bolton dismounts his horse, bow and arrow in hand. He can see that Theon Greyjoy is still lying on his stomach with his pants down, surrounded by the corpses of the Bolton soldiers. The Master Torturer is still on his knees, an arrow forced through his chest.

Ramsay smirks and begins walking. After he kills this one, he will lead poor old Theon for another round of pain and despair. So quaint.

Ramsay is now just two feet away from the wheezing Torturer. He begins to nock his bow, and the Torturer could have spent his last bit of energy calling Ramsay a "little bastard." Alas, he does not.

Instead, still on his knees, the Torturer rips the sword from his scabbard and thrusts. Ramsay's mouth hangs open and his eyes go wide as he is stabbed directly between his legs. At the very least, he can feel his blood flowing through his pants.

Angered at his betrayal, the Torturer lunges forward, knocking Ramsay to the ground on his back. The sword falls out, but the Torturer does not go for it. Instead, he wraps his hands around Ramsay's neck.

It takes a bit of time and plenty of wheezing from Ramsay, but the infamous bastard finally lets out his last gurgle as his eyes roll back. Not long afterward, the Torturer collapses upon the corpse himself and expires.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: And Now His Watch is Ended

"Those men," Theon Greyjoy says aloud, "they said my father knew what they were doing to me."

"I...I don't know, my lord." Ramsay fakes a stutter from his place on horseback. "They...they never told me much."

Theon rides slowly alongside Ramsay, lost in the thoughts of his tyrannical father and his unusually merciful sister. He has been through a lot back in the cell, but at least he has a chance now, assuming that the words of his rescuer are true.

With a sudden rush of energy, Theon slams his legs into the sides of his horse, causing it to rush forward and gallop onward into the forest.

Startled, Ramsay urges his horse forward as well. Unfortunately, Theon has put a considerable amount of distance between himself and the bastard of Bolton.

Not only has Ramsay not accounted for this turn of events, but he has not trained with his horse as much as he should have these past few days. His grip on the reigns is too tight, and his legs dangle. The horse is running even faster now, and the trees and mist have formed a blur.

After a while, Ramsay's eyes suddenly pick up on the fact that Theon has stopped his horse. He gives an especially strong pull on the reins, and the speeding animal is forced to make the most abrupt stop of it's life.

Ramsay is propelled forward, flying past Theon as he screams at the top of his lungs. The only thing that silences Ramsay is his slamming head-first into a tree.

He falls down, his skull dented and his brain damaged beyond repair.

Only a few more minutes of unconscious life are left for the victim of the most righteous tree in recorded history.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Climb

The smug son of Lord Bolton stands before Theon, who has been spread across the crossed racks with each limb bound securely. "The Stark boys," Ramsay drolls, "They're still alive.

Ramsay can just picture himself standing on the necks of those two runts, his laughter filling the air as beautiful tears streak down their faces.

Theon, however, has had enough pain and has nothing to lose. He has endured countless tortures at the hands of this boy with no end in sight and no hope to escape. There is no Yara that can swoop in and save him, no Balon, no Robb Stark, no Maester Luwin, no Ned. All he has is himself.

Ramsay leans forward. If he had the chance, he would have whispered, "Wouldn't that be a hunt to remember?" Theon does not give him such a chance. The Greyjoy prince's head snaps forward, his mouth open and his teeth bared. He bites right through Ramsay's throat.

The bastard of Bolton's eyes go wide, his breath stops, his mind goes blank. He cannot move his little finger, let alone any of his limbs. Theon finally yanks his head back with a solid ripping sound.

Ramsay crumples to the ground, and Theon swallows the blood in his mouth and licks the rest off his lips. This is a far finer drink than even the water callously spilt at the table.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Bear and the Maiden Fair

Theon Greyjoy has been knocked to the ground by Ramsay's horn. As he registers the sound of the dreaded instrument being tossed aside; he likewise forces himself to register the surroundings of the rooms once more; dark walls, stone floor, two open braziers filled with burning wood.

From between his two bedwarmers, Ramsay pulls his favorite...and peculiarly-shaped knife out, practically sighing at the shing it makes. He begins speaking, "Your famous c*ck must be very precious to you...would you say it's your most precious part?"

Theon is not listening, though. He has been starved and beaten, but not defeated. With an extraordinarily high-pitched yelp, he jumps straight up into the air before facing Ramsay and the girls. He feints, and then dashes to the side. Ramsay takes a step or two, but is unable to stop Theon from grabbing one of the braziers.

The Greyjoy prince practically lurches forward and flings the contents of the brazier at his captor. The girls leap out of the way, leaving Ramsay where he is. The knife offers no protection against the burning coals that collide with his clothing.

Ramsay can only scream as his robe and pants both burst into flames. He stumbles, dropping the knife, before falling down on his back.

The sadistic bastard writhes a bit, and then is still.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Myhsa

"Do eunuchs have a phantom c**k?" Ramsay holds the pork sausage with feigned curiosity. Theon, strapped the the wooden "x", can only tremble as Ramsay continues speaking.

"Next time you think about naked girls….will you feel an itch?" The monstrous bastard waves around the sausage with a wide smile, and Theon can only lower his head.

Ramsay bites off a large piece of the sausage, not bothering to use any more of the sauce in the bowl before him, then looks back at the captured Greyjoy. Such a pathetic figure, dirty and shivering, the worn pants finely displaying a large wet spot between his legs.

Ramsay laughs. He cannot help it. His head rocks back and his teeth are bared as his ear-splitting and scratchy laugh fills the torture chamber. Spit gathers at the corners of his mouth, his eyes are scrunched…

And then a loud "Hkuuh!" emerges from his throat. He has swallowed the sausage, but not in the right way. His eyes bulge as he grabs at his throat, trying to alleviate the blockage.

He is unsuccessful.

The bastard eventually falls down in his seat, his face landing directly into the sauce bowl.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Lion and the Rose

Tansy presses herself to the nearest tree, panting and sobbing. The dogs are coming, Myranda is coming, and Ramsay is definitely going to show up. She's trapped in this maze of a forest, she's worn out from the chase, and each of her pursuers is carrying a bow. She's unarmed….

Wait! Tansy bends down and snatches up a rock the size of her hand. The heft is good, and...Tansy turns around and looks up the rather tall tree. It can be done.

She scampers up the tree, her feet resting on individual branches for no more than a moment at a time. She finally sits once she reaches the top. It is not long before two black spots flash across the ground; the dogs. Tansy pulls her right arm back, rock in hand. Can she do this?

Soon, two human figures appear, following the general path of the dogs. Only one has the long dark hair that Myranda is so well-known among the household for. Tansy focuses on the other figure and casts the rock forward with all her might.

Ramsay is instantly downed, and Tansy can see Myranda rushing to his side. Tansy scrambles back down the tree.

She was out of the forest in half a day, and later heard that Ramsay had died on the spot.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Laws of Gods and Men

Naked, shivering, stuttering Theon Greyjoy walks cautiously towards the bath before settling in. The coldness of the water shocks him, but above all he is focused on how his "master" is only a few feet behind him and will almost certainly not leave him alone.

The Bastard of Bolton takes his time as he walks towards the edge of the bath, his face contorting into an odious smile as he sees his precious little prisoner duck his head in fear.

Ramsay sits on the edge of the wooden basin, rather precariously at that. As he extends his arm in order to personally bathe Theon himself, he loses his balance. He curses as he falls down into the bath himself.

Theon is struck out of his stupor as he realizes the current situation. So many things are flashing before his eyes; his mutilated fingers, the Bolton men who taunted and abused him at every turn, the stone walls he is constantly surrounded by, and the new, imagined sight of Robb Stark's corpse. He swiftly jumps out of the bath before grabbing Ramsay's shoulders from behind and forcing him down.

There is quite a bit of struggling and gurgling to go, but in the end, Ramsay is drowned. Theon steps back, leaving the corpse halfway into the bath and with it's rear pointed in the air.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Mountain and the Viper

Ramsay's eyes flutter, and he quickly becomes alert. He is in the middle of a dank room lit by only one window. He is spread-eagled and tied down to a table, and the back of his head feels wet...is it blood?

The door suddenly creaked open, and the old and decrepit ironborn commander known as Ralf Kenning shambles in.

Ramsay struggles to turn his head as Ralf Kenning musters the effort to circle the table. "Not a bad idea," the man croaks. "Send in your pet rat to read out your lies, get us all to surrender. If only word didn't spread about what you did to those ironborn at Winterfell…"

Ralf stops to hover over the restrained son of Roose Bolton. "And then you got cocky. Came in here by yourself, left your boys outside so you could discuss your 'terms.'" Ralf lets out a long sigh. "Your men will keep attacking us, I know...not even the Drowned God can help us survive the siege now. Just look at me…" The ironborn holds up his hands.

"I've been sick for what seems like an eternity. Lice are in my hair, my bones feel like will crack anytime now, and I can just barely see through these damned old eyes o' mine. I don't have much strength left…" the scarred and hairy hands clench into fists, "...but is should be enough."

Ramsay barely has time to scream before his captor's arms swing downward. Ralf grabs the sides of the bastard's head and gives a hard twist.

 _Crunch._


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: High Sparrow

The dreaded Ramsay walks across the rampart as ravens fly high over his head. He smirks, remembering the little talk he'd had with Littlefinger not two minutes ago. It had been so easy to promise him that no harm would come to Sansa, that he would treat her well. And the upstart Braavosi will never be around to watch him break that promise. Oh, he will have so much fun…

He cannot help it. Ramsay bursts out laughing when he is sure no one is near. Spittle flies from his mouth as he doubles, clutching his stomach in excitement. He continues to laugh hard as he stumbles backward, bumping into the railing. He can feel what has happened, but it is too late for him to change his position now. He flips over the railing.

By a stroke of luck, the screeching Ramsay manages to grab onto the railing with his right hand. It is at that moment that his luck runs out, for a raven has just flown over him. It is not a letter-bearing messenger raven, oh no, but a common animal with a sudden need to relieve itself.

Ramsay shrieks as the white goop hits his fingers, causing them to slip. The Bolton's shriek graduates to a full scream as he plummets to the ground, then abruptly stops as he hits the ground, his spine and skull instantly shattering.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Kill the Boy

The old serving lady had told Sansa earlier that the North remembers, and she has every intention of proving that statement correct.

She is at the door of that room, listening in as Roose Bolton tells the bastard Ramsay his plans and gains his support against Stannis Baratheon. The old woman knows that Winterfell is no place for the lady Stark. Action must be taken now.

She walks in without ceremony, and both Bolton men turn to look in her direction. The lamps reveal the confusion on their faces. Before either can ask questions, the old woman snaps her right hand forward. The thrown dagger sails through the air and pierces through Roose's forehead.

Ramsay's eyes widen, but he recovers quicker than the old woman had anticipated, growling as he retrieves the dagger from his father's fallen corpse. The old woman takes up a fighting stance as the bastard rushes forward.

Ramsay stabs forward, only for the old woman to side sidestep. She grabs the outstretched arm with both hands and spins around to break it over her shoulder.

Before Ramsay even has time to howl, the old woman flips him over and slams him to the floor face-up. She thrusts her foot forward, breaking Ramsay's neck and windpipe at the time time with a _crunch_!

Now there is only one thing for old Nymeria, servant of House Stark and a retainer of the late King Robb Stark, to do: spirit Lady Sansa out of Winterfell as soon as she can.


	12. Chapter 12

The old serving lady throws down her broom. The marriage ceremony is done, and the lady Stark has been taken away. Action must be taken now; who knows what horrors await Sansa now.

Brave Nymeria runs out if the building and through the throng of servants outside until she reaches the outer wall of Winterfell. No one looks twice in her direction as she moves. Good.

Pulling out a pair of well-used hooks, Nymeria climbs up the side of the wall, her arms moving back and forth as she forces the hooks between the stones as fast as possible.

She eventually reaches the top, but Nymeria knows that she has no time to spare. She runs across the battlements, throws open the door, and scurries down the hallway right behind it.

Nymeria's vision suddenly picks up the large wooden door that marks Ramsay's chambers. She throws aside the hooks and pulls a dagger mid-step before kicking open the door. The sight before her immediately calms Nymeria.

Sansa is standing behind Ramsay, pulling with all her might the scarf around his neck. The bastard's eyes are bulging, his skin is turning blue, his mouth is sending saliva every which way, and his hands are futilely grasping at the makeshift garrote. Theon is cowering in the corner.

Nymeria stands there for a moment or so, then shrugs and tosses her dagger. The blade pierces his heart immediately.

Sansa drops the lifeless body as looks straight at the old woman. "Let's go."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: The Gift

Ramsay stares smugly around. He is alone in this snowy outdoor area of Winterfell, alone save for Reek. Sansa has already been lead back to her chambers, the defiled body of her old friend hanging from the wooden cross. He waves a hand at Reek, who quickly scurries away for the kennels. His smirk stretches into an ear-to-ear grin.

Ramsay wanders off. He is a very pleasant mood now, just barely refraining from skipping. Stannis Baratheon is sure to fall, he has Sansa and Reek to toy with, and he will be Lord of Winterfell one day. He feels very close to bursting with vile happiness. The Bastard of Bolton comes to the sudden realization that he must let this sudden burst of energy out.

He swings his fist out at a wall, heedless of the temporary pain he would receive. The joy of striking and beating and hitting had been with him since childhood, much to his detriment. If Ramsay had looked at his surroundings and if he had chosen to strike one of the stone walls, he would have been fine. Alas, his mighty punch rumbles the wooden watchtower crudely installed in the face of Stannis' future attack.

It would be many hours before anyone at the castle found Ramsay, and by then it was too late. His body had been packed firmly into the snow by the watchtower, which also prevented any method of escape. One only had to look at the shriveled, pale corpse to know that Ramsay Bolton had froze to death.

The body was tossed nonchalantly into the kennels before the dogs got too hungry; the Bolton men had the important work of fortification and preparation to be done.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Hardhorne

The Boltons ride through the snow on their horses, getting steadily closer to Stannis Baratheon's encampment. Twenty good men, armed to the teeth and covered in heavy coats and armor, follow behind Ramsay Bolton as he rides ahead. The bastard can see the campfires now, and he pulls out his sword as his face breaks into a grin. He cannot wait to wreak havoc and take heads. Who knows, maybe he will be able to have a little fun with Stannis himself. His twenty good men will help him as needed.

Or at least, that's what they told him before the raid was organized and started. They have been steadily falling behind him. An archer rides up to the front of the pack, and a nod from the captain gives him permission to nock his arrow. The archer can see a few torches in the distance; no doubt being held by Stannis' sentries. Action must be taken now.

The Bolton lets fly his arrow, and he can hear Ramsay's scream from many feet ahead. Upon seeing their leader fall, the raiders turn around and ride off. How could Ramsay have not thought this could happen? He already killed at least six of his comrades while toying around with that ironborn Theon. The twenty good men know that no chances could be taken with this maniac. If Lord Roose asks any questions, they will just say Ramsay was killed by the Baratheons.

Ramsay's horse rides forward as its owner lies bleeding and broken in the snow, but it's eyes quickly go wide as the torch-bearing sentries come closer. It quickly turns tail and gallops off.

Ramsay Bolton's eyes open just in time to see the gleam of his horse's steel boot. The hoof smashes right into his face, shattering his skull instantly.

The sentries soon find that the blood trail left by the horse goes on for quite a distance.


	15. Chapter 15

The Bolton soldiers can only watch as Ramsay continues to strut around the battlefield, swinging a sword every now and then to dispatch a downed Baratheon soldier. They've already won the battle, Stannis has fled, and Winterfell has been saved. Even now, they must indulge their new lord's petty nature for a bit.

After a shrug, the Bolton commander waves his hand and begins to leave with his men. He does not bother to listen to Ramsay's next round of smug laughter as he sinks his sword into the neck of yet another soldier.

Flush-faced, the bastard raises his arms in the air in victory a split-second before he sees an unusual sight; a circle made of bodies. It looks fun.

Ramsay saunters off the circle. As he has not yet come down from his battle high and his eyes of squinted from the snow, he does not notice that there are no visible wounds on the bodies.

"Ummph!" A boot has thrust itself forward. Ramsay trips, falls in the circle. There are ten men in the circle, their target has only one sword at his disposal, and he has fallen for their ploy.

The Baratheon men, jump up, empowered by both bloodlust and a desire to avenge their King. Their target is quickly disarmed, strong-armed, and held in one place as the ringleader pulls a dagger. He looks from it to the cursing and angry Ramsay, then shakes his head. No need to waste a good edge.

The ringleader takes a spare flask from his belt, and at his command the mouth of the bastard of Bolton is forced open. The eyes flare with futile rage as the mouthpiece of the flask is forced past his throat.

It takes the entire supply of wine held in the flask, but Ramsay is finally suffocated. The ringleader casually kicks down the corpse as his men leap to the side.

The ringleader does not quite know what his group will do. Their liege is dead, they've precious little food, and bounties will undoubtedly be placed on their necks. But the Baratheon retainer does know what he will do now.

He drops to one knee and jams the empty flask down his slain enemy's throat.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: The Red Woman

"A reckoning will come. We need the North to face it. The entire North. They won't back us without Sansa Stark. We no longer have Sansa Stark," Roose spits at his son, Ramsay Bolton. "You played her games with her. You played your games with the heir to the Iron Islands, and now they're both gone."

"Without Sansa, you won't be able to produce an heir. And without an heir...well, let's hope the maesters are right, and Lady Walda's carrying a boy."

Roose gives a sudden nod, and two men leap out from behind Ramsay to grab him.

The Lord of Winterfell then decrees, "See him to his chambers."

Ramsay can only let scream and curse as he is pulled away. He, Ramsay Bolton, acting heir to Lord Roose, former acting head of Winterfell, and commander of the Bolton forces, is being given a time out.

By the time the trio have reached the chambers, Ramsay's furious indignation has given way to silent petulance. The men wait at the door, allowing their maniac to rush towards the bed.

The previous night, a carpenter had been called in to saw a hole in the bed, long and wide enough to accommodate a man at least six feet tall. A stonemason had been called in to cut out a slightly larger hole in the stone floor below. Below this floor are at at least a dozen more, all of which have had similar holes carved out of them. This entire wing of the castle had been shut down by Roose's guards; it was just as well that Ramsay was too busy making preparations against Stannis Baratheon to notice.

At the very, very bottom of this drop is a special place set in the basement, a wooden board covered in spikes improvised from flaying knives. All the way at the top, a blanket had been stretched along the bed to cover its own hole. There is only factor left, and that is Ramsay's...shortsightedness.

The two men grin as Ramsay throws himself upon the blanket, one second before he falls through the bed.

Ramsay' high-pitched yelp evolves into a bloodcurdling angry scream as he falls each and every hole in each and every floor. It's not even half a minute before he is impaled upon the blades in the basement. He can only wiggle and gasp until he bleeds out.

The two men look down through the holes at the faint image of the corpse below. The one on the left turns to the one of the right.

"Did we really have to go through all this trouble to get the bastard out of Lord Bolton's hair?"

"No," says the man on the right. "But it's much more fun this way."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Home

Ramsay grins ear to ear, unaffected by the cold weather. He has his stepmother and brother right where he wants them. They'll be in the tummies of his dogs before long, and he'll be the one and only Lord of Winterfell.

Suddenly, Walda does a very curious thing. She stands completely straight, clutching her newborn son tighter. She puckers her lips and lets out a long, piercing trill.

Ramsay suddenly screams, doubling over. He looks down through squinted eyes, realizing that a single arrow has pierced through his back and stomach. A low groan emits from his mouth as Walda scoffs.

"My boy, I knew your reputation long before I step foot here in Winterfell. You flay prisoners, you tortured a poor boy into slavery, and don't think I don't know you stabbed my husband to death not an hour ago. You really think I wouldn't come prepared?"

It is at this time that the archer walks from his hiding place and behind the mewling, squirming Ramsay. He bows. "Anything more to do, Lady Walda?"

"Yes," she nods. "Finish him." Ramsay musters up the strength to look up at her stepmother. "What will you do to me?"

"Hmmm…" Walda provides a contemplative glance. "I care not for pettiness, nor bloodthirstiness. You're still young. I may have held mercy for you, but…" She's holding her newborn son with both hands now, comforting him as he begins crying. "I shall not tolerate any threat to my baby boy."

She looks at the archer. "Take him to the stables. Pick a horse and drag him until his last breath is spent." The archer bows once more. "Yes, m'lady."

Walda turns away as the archer grabs the cursing Ramsay by the hair, then suddenly turns back. "One more thing. Pull down his trousers before you ride."

Ramsay screams.

It would be several hours before the mangled, armless, crotchless corpse of the Bastard of Bolton was thrown into the kennels. The dogs received their nourishment with utmost joy.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18: Oathbreaker

Ramsay is quiet for a minute, having absorbed Smalljon Umber's screed against the wildlings and the threat they pose to Winterfell. He leans back in his chair, savoring what's to come.

"Pledge your banners to House Bolton. Swear loyalty to me as Warden of the North, and we will fight together to destroy the bastard and all his wildling friends."

Smalljon smirks. "Just yanking your rusty, shit-stained chain, young Bolton. I know you. We'll fight, we'll take wildling heads, and you'll cut me down just as you did your cunt of a father, or maybe you'll throw me to the dogs to join Fat Walda and her welp in their stomachs. No. I cannot put my life in your hands. Today ends one way, bastard, and only one way. With your blood staining the bottom of that table you're squatting in front of."

Ramsay leans forward. "Oh? And how do you suppose that will happen?" Smalljon takes a step back as his eyes roll. He clears his throat, then lets out a long, piercing whistle.

Before Ramsay can blink, the great direwolf Shaggydog barrels through the door, leaps across the table, and sinks his mighty teeth into the putrid face of the so-called Warden of the North.

The force of the leap allows Shaggydog to push Ramsay to the ground, and Smalljon watches impassively as the great beast chews his face off and his neck open. He turns around to see Rickon at the door.

"I hope you know this changes nothing between you, me, and you bastard brother." Rickon forces a nod. "But this was a sight you and I have waited to behold, no?"

Smalljon shrugs. "True enough."


End file.
